


Chicken Little (But the Sky Isn't Falling)

by mickthekid



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Chickens, Fluff, M/M, Swearing, This is just a fluffball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 18:36:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9671075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickthekid/pseuds/mickthekid
Summary: “Fuck, it’s making noise!” Mickey whisper-shouts, looking angry but sounding something between panicked and slightly amused. The guy looks and sounds like a walking contradiction.Ian grins. “Let her out, she’s probably fucking suffocating in your layers, man.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> My first Shameless fic. It's just fluff and fun, inspired by this post on Tumblr: http://teamrocketing.tumblr.com/post/155304245066/this-gay-couple-on-the-night-train-had-actual

Vicky hadn’t thought working part-time at a shitty coffee shop in the suburbs of Chicago would make her a lot of money, but this seemed quite ridiculous. She had come in at eleven in the morning, and when her shift had ended five hours later, she would be able to count the amount of customers on two hands even if she didn't have all her fingers intact. Her shift didn’t leave her exhausted like she had expected, but it did leave her bored out of her mind. She had asked the cleaning lady if every day was like this one, and the woman had answered: “Oh, usually I don’t even have much to clean up. People rarely make a mess since they never stay. Jackson keeps me around to vacuum the place and clean up his bathroom upstairs.” So, Vicky doesn't have a co-worker to talk to, so it seems, and she hadn't seen her boss all day either. She leaves the shop with ten dollars worth of tips in her pocket. What a dream job.

Living outside the center of the city, Vicky must take the train to get home from work. She is clad in appropriately colorful fall attire that matches her red, curly hair almost too perfectly. The surrounding area is lacking color, she thinks, as the leaves that have fallen are all wet and ugly-brown, and the people around her are all wearing black and gray to go with their gloomy expressions. Vicky feels out of her element here.

When the train arrives, Vicky is among the first ones to get on. She chooses a seat close to the exit and practically slumps into it. If she were alone, she would have groaned miserably since her day’s been absolute shit and she wants someone to complain to. Instead she settles for closing her eyes and huffing out a long breath of irritation.

Vicky gathers the strength to open her eyes for fear of accidentally falling asleep and missing her stop. She makes sure her purse is secure on the floor between her feet and does her best to relax into her seat. Across from her sits a greasy-looking old man who seems to have passed out; probably from drinking, she figures, if the smell is anything to go by. She wrinkles her nose and turns her head in the opposite direction, content with ignoring the loud snoring.

At the next stop, only a few people saunter into her cart. She takes notice of two men in particular, mostly because the other one has hair more orange than the fucking sun, and he’s also incredibly good-looking. The redhead sits down in a seat across the aisle, and his friend sits down across from him. Vicky tries to be as discreet as possible when she looks on. The redhead's companion has black, messy hair and a permanent scowl on his face. He’s shaking his head incredulously.

“Fuck, it’s making noise!” he whisper-shouts, looking angry but sounding something between panicked and slightly amused. The guy looks and sounds like a walking contradiction.

The redhead grins. “Let her out, she’s probably fucking suffocating in your layers, man.”

“They gonna charge extra? I don’t think I got any more coins, man,” the angry man says, but he’s already opening the zipper of his windbreaker. He reaches the hand that isn’t awkwardly holding something to his chest inside, and pulls out a fucking _hen_. Vicky’s eyes widen as the angry man places the small, white bird onto his thigh, keeping a hand atop her feathered back. The hen doesn’t look at all disturbed, which seems rather odd to Vicky, but she likes what she’s getting to witness. The redhead has a huge smile on his face as he looks at the bird in his friend’s lap.

“We should feed her, Mick. I got some seeds left, hold on.” He reaches into his backpack on the floor and pulls out a half-full bag. He pours a handful of seeds into his palm and reaches over to offer them to the hen. The bird starts munching on them eagerly with the redhead laughing happily above her head. The angry man, Mick, has a small smirk tugging on the corners of his mouth that he tries to cover up by rubbing his thumb against his lower lip. “So fucking cute,” the redhead says when the bird has emptied his hand’s contents completely.

“Yeah, whatever,” Mick mutters quietly, Vicky almost doesn’t catch it. “Birds aren’t supposed to be fucking cute, Gallagher. They’re, like, fucking dinosaurs. This beak could pierce my fucking eyes any second and you’d have to play nurse for the rest of your goddamn life. Should think about that before adopting it, asswipe.” Vicky gives a small laugh at Mick’s inability to form a sentence without cursing like a sailor. She can relate right now.

Gallagher shrugs. “Nah, we gotta take her to a vet or something, our apartment’s probably not a good home for a chicken,” he says with a small pout. Mick snorts at him, hands still petting the small animal.

“Yeah, we ain't got the time to take care of her anyway,” he says. Gallagher nods solemnly, reaching over to pet the hen again. Vicky looks on as Gallagher’s fingers make contact with Mick’s tattooed ones and Mick moves his hand to give the larger one a quick squeeze. Vicky’s eyebrows shoot up slightly in surprise. _Huh, no ginger hottie for me, then_ , she thinks.

Mick has a small, happy smile on his face as he lets go of Gallagher’s hand. “Do ya think Wise Little Hen here’s gonna mind spending the night at our place? The vet’s gonna be closed 'fore we get there, we should go tomorrow. And then go to a shelter or some shit to check out if they take chickens. Watcha say ‘bout that?”

Vicky fears Gallagher’s grin is going to split his face in two. He nods a couple of times. “Sounds like a plan, babe.” He laughs as Mick screws up his face at the pet name.

“Dick,” Mick says without any real heat. He picks up the hen and kicks off his mud-covered boots before he raises both of his feet and places them on Gallagher’s thighs. He looks incredibly smug as he places the hen back onto his lap and presses a foot into Gallagher’s side playfully. “Wake me up when we gotta get off.”

“Don’t fucking fall asleep, our stop’s after this one!” Gallagher exclaims, hitting the side of Mick’s calf. “Mickey!”

“Jesus, fucking chill, man. The chick could attack.” Mickey pats the bird’s back for emphasis, Vicky isn’t sure if it’s sleeping or if it just doesn’t give a shit about anything that’s going on.

“It’s not gonna attack.” Gallagher shakes his head. He looks out the window and lets out a loud “oh!”. “Our stop’s now, Mick. C’mon.” Mickey lowers his feet and hands the hen over to Gallagher so that he can pull his boots back on. As the train comes to a stop, Gallagher pulls the bird against his chest and lets his other hand find its way to Mick’s lower back, guiding him to the opening doors. Mickey shrugs his shoulder and punches Gallagher's side playfully, making his hand fall from his back. The couple is wearing matching grins as they step out of the train. At this point Vicky has forgotten all about her shitty first day at work.

The last thing Vicky hears before the train’s doors close again is: “Man, chicks are kinda fucking sweet after all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Haha, I'm an idiot for naming the original character Vicky. Didn't even realize it rhymes perfectly with Mickey. Oh well, guess it's kinda funny.


End file.
